A Nine Hundred Dollar Wine Bottle
by Pickles
Summary: Fluff. Not really too much more to say. Yohji/Aya.


Okie, ummm, this is fluff. Pure and simple. Fluff. Same timeline as Happy birthday, Aya-kun, but stands on its own. Don't sue me Takehito-san, I promise I don't think I own Weiss Kreuz.  
  
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A Nine Hundred Dollar Wine Bottle  
  
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I am in such a good mood.  
  
Why? I talked Aya into going out with me last night. Dancing, no less.  
  
Why didn't he ever tell me he could do that? He's one of the best dancers I've ever met.  
  
In a 'stalking his prey' sort of way.  
  
In any case, I have discovered that my favorite redhead has a taste for fine wines. And it's our three month anniversary, so I ordered him a bottle of Dom Perigñon.  
  
1927.  
  
I know, I know, just a little expensive. Cost me well over nine hundred dollars.  
  
Hey, I heard '27 was a good year.  
  
Besides, I've got the money. And Aya's worth it.  
  
He'd better be.  
  
Otherwise I just went through slightly over three months of no weed and no sex for nothing.  
  
That would seriously piss me off.  
  
I have gone to extreme lengths to make this perfect. I dug up this great little round table, and I found a nice red cloth for it. I got myself some nice long candles - white - and I even got Omi to let me use the nice plates and silverware. I can't cook, of course; I ordered the food. But it cost seventy five bucks. I am sparing no expense for my Aya-kun tonight.  
  
Well, hell, I'm an assassin. I can afford it.  
  
But over a thousand dollars is still a nice chunk out of my bank account.  
  
And I'm not even expecting to get laid tonight.  
  
Hell, I must really love Aya.  
  
I've already got the food, and set the table. All I need now is Aya. But he's a little busy at the moment. Working at the shop.  
  
But he's late. He should have closed the shop fifteen minutes ago and been up here by now.  
  
I head down the stairs, planning to drag Aya up by his ears. But when I walk in, I understand.  
  
The fangirls have mobbed him again.  
  
There have to be at least thirty of them in here. Half of them haven't even bought something, and they're all crowded around Aya. MY Aya. He looks like he's either going to go shi-ne or drop dead from exhaustion and stress.  
  
Half of them immediately flock to me, and I can pick certain sentences out. "Yohji, how do you like my earrings?" "Do these shoes go with this outfit, Aya?"  
  
I am already annoyed with this. I walk up to Aya, fighting my way through the high school girls.  
  
"Did you try, 'Buy something or get out'?" I ask him. He nods. "Well, try it again," I suggest.  
  
He nods, and puts on his death-stalk face, then indraws a huge breath. "Buy something or GET OUT!" he roars.  
  
This is always worth at least twenty seconds of silence. I take advantage of it, putting my arms around Aya. I say softly - but loudly enough to be heard by the entire shop - into his neck, "I know we agreed to not mix business with pleasure, but, Aya-kun, business time is over, right?"  
  
He gets the game immediately, and starts kissing the inside of my arm. "Right." He looks up the the now very attentive crowd. "Shop's closed. Go home, girls. Find some other 'bishonen' to bother." Then he turns around and kisses me.  
  
I add, just for good measure, "You're about to give my boyfriend an ulcer."  
  
The girls all look shocked, and continue to as we herd them out of the shop and flip the sign over to closed.  
  
"Are you sure that was wise?" Aya asks me. "Not that I didn't appreciate it, mind."  
  
"If they don't come back, well, they never bought anything anyway," I rationalize. "Besides, they really were about to give you an ulcer."  
  
Aya scowls darkly. "I don't know how you can stand to work that shift."  
  
"That's easy," I tease, wrapping a strand of wavy blond hair around my finger. "I fantasize about you."  
  
Aya flushes slightly. "You certainly are no saint, but you have the patience of one."  
  
"You want a neck rub, Aya-kun?" I ask. "You're probably ungodly tense."  
  
"That sounds good," Aya admits. He bends his head down. I crack my knuckles, then go to work, kneading the tense flesh of Aya's neck. A short moan that dissolves into a purr lets me know he appreciates my efforts.  
  
"You like?" I ask softly.  
  
"Did you take a class to learn to do this?" he pushes out roughly.  
  
"Nope. These skills are pure Yohji Kudoh," I smile. "Feeling better yet?" Of course he is; I can tell. His neck muscles are relaxed under my fingers.  
  
"If I say yes, will you stop?"  
  
"Not unless you want me to."  
  
This is the extent of the conversation for a good long while, as I slowly beging to work lower, to his shoulders and upper arms, then upper back. The small vocalizations - sighs, purrs and the like - coming from Aya encourage me, but I stop at his waistline. I hear a grunt of disappointment, and smirk to myself. He wouldn't have liked what happened had I gone any lower.  
  
"So what's for dinner?" he asks.  
  
Shit! I'd forgotten about all the food. I hope it's not cold by now. "Dinner's up in my room," I say, pointing overhead.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Any particular reason?"  
  
"Just a better atmosphere. Oh - don't worry. Nothing Omittchi shouldn't see. You'll understand. C'mon already!"  
  
"Okay, okay!" Aya said, laughing. "Let's go."  
  
I pull him up to my room. Both of us are giggling insanely at this point, although I have no idea why. I open my door, and he walks into the atmosphere I have created. He looks around, and then turns to me. "Yohji... this is... great. It must have cost - gods, at least two hundred dollars..."  
  
"Happy anniversary, babe," I say, throwing an arm around aya. "Look at the wine bottle."  
  
He pulls the chilled bottle out, and blanches. "1927?! Yohji! This has to be worth - eight hundred dollars, at least!"  
  
"Nine hundred thirty four dollars and eighty seven cents, to be precise," I chime in. "Well?"  
  
"I can't - can't possible drink this, Yohji. I appreciate the gesture, but - take it back. I don't know how you managed to get a hold of it, but it's too expensive."  
  
"They won't take it back," I say. "It's a one time deal."  
  
"Then I'll pay you for it," Aya says firmly. "I can't allow you to spend money on me like this."  
  
"Not even if I want to?" I ask. "I can spare the cash nowadays, what with you having forced me into a healthier lifestyle." I kiss his neck gently. "If I did it every week or every month, or even every other month, I could understand. But if I can't occasionally lavish expensive gifts on the man I love -" I kiss Aya's lips. "Then I'll just have to make up for it with public displays of affection."  
  
"You wouldn't," Aya growled.  
  
"Want to bet? This is Yohji Kudo we're discussing here," I smile sweetly at him.  
  
"This is also Aya Fujimiya we're discussing here," he says, but he isn't glaring at me. I know I've already won.  
  
"Take your pick, Aya," I say pointedly, smirking at him.  
  
"The wine - I suppose," Aya sighs. "But you're going to spoil me."  
  
I sigh. "That's the point, Aya."  
  
I hear a faint grumble from him, something about "stupid photo album." I ignore it.  
  
"Ready to eat?" I ask him. I have him come over to the table, and pull his chair out. He sits, and we begin our properly romantic evening.  
  
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I wake up from a dreamless - for once - sleep. Aya is standing in my doorway, an arm wrapped around his bare chest. He looks - scared?  
  
"What's wrong, Aua?" I ask, sitting up. My twenty-three-year-old bones should not creak, but they do.  
  
Aya looks at me, unable to find words for what he needs to say. I read the truth in his violet eyes. He has been haunted by his past this night, revisited his sins in his dreams. He can't just say to me, "I had a nightmare, can I sleep with you?"  
  
"Do you want to stay with me tonight?" I ask him gently. He nods silently. I ull the covers back to invite him in. He shuffles forward, black silk pajama pants hanging loose on his hips, and slides under the blankets with me.  
  
"I hate it all," I hear Aya mutter. "They haunt me."  
  
"Me too," I tell him. I pull the blankets back up over the two of us.  
  
"Do they blame you?" Aya asks me. "For their deaths, I mean. For the way they lost everything they could have had."  
  
"No," I tell him, sliding an arm around him. "The people they killed speak to me through them. They tell me I should find their families, comfort them, tell them justice has been served..."  
  
"Why can't they leave us alone?" Aya mumbles, laying up against me lengthwise.  
  
"I don't know," I admit. The conversation ends there.  
  
Aya nestles up against my collarbone, making himself comfortable. After about ten minutes, he falls asleep. His breathing is light and measured. I can feel his hand on my ribs tighten so that I am in his embrace as well as him being in mine. His hands are cold, but his body is warm up agianst mine. I entwine a leg with his. He murmers my name in his sleep.  
  
I lose myself in Aya's warmth, his affection nurturing aura that he gives me. He doesn't realize it, but he is as protective of me as I am of him.  
  
"I love you, Aya-kun," I whisper softly. I drop off to a dreamworld... where Aya can say it back to me.  
  
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Well, that's the end of that. Way too fluffy, and Aya is, as always, waaaaaaaaaaaaay OOC. This is to tide people over until I get that lemon done. I will have it done before Christmas, I promise! 


End file.
